Champion
by Umbral Crow
Summary: The Scrolls foretold a destiny for a man and a dragon, in which they would clash on fields unending, stained red with blood. The Scrolls foretold the end of the tyranny of the sun, where the nightwalkers will rule the day. The scrolls foretold the return of the first dragonborn, his fury everlasting. However, the Scrolls are known to be fickle things.


Disclaimer: The creator of this work does not own any assets mentioned in said work unless they are original characters or ideas such as but not limited to: changes in Elder Scrolls lore to fit the story, changes in character personality, age or origin, etc.

Chapter 1: Prologue Part One

* * *

It is foretold in the Elder Scrolls that one day the World Eater, Alduin, will return to Nirn to finally proceed with his task. That he will end the current world of man and mer and allow for the next world to be born from the ashes. However, it is also foretold that there will be a figure of great strength to face him there at that end. That person will share Alduin's blood, that of the mighty dragons, and will speak and breathe as they do. That a Dragonborn will appear at this critical point and stand as a mighty shield for the weak, the innocent and all of the mortals of Nirn, who would assuredly perish at the hands of the triumphantly returning dragon horde.

The Scrolls are never truly wrong.

But they are known to be fickle things that shift and sway as time flows ever onwards. The Scrolls exist far outside the limits of man, and even of the Aedra and Daedra, who exist within the realms of power that is nigh impossible to truly understand. They are linked to the very bones of the Aurbis and of Nirn at its center. As the manifestations of order and disorder clash and collide to create conflict and peace, as the Aedra and Daedra work to gain the upper hand in their struggles for the hearts of mortals, and even as the mortals themselves, from the Emperor of Tamriel to even the lowest scum of banditry, battle ever forward for dominance, none could ever predict how the Scrolls had shifted as that fated day drew ever closer.

* * *

It was a dreary day in the Nibenean Valley. Storm clouds piled on overhead and the day drew to a close as the sun, Magnus' scar upon the sky, shifted closer and closer to the horizon. However, in a small, yet opulent manor south of Cheydinhal, something very curious was occurring. The child of a minor lord, cousin to a member of the Elder Council and heir to the now nearly extinct legacy of the ancient house of Ferren, was giving birth to a seemingly fatherless child.

"My lady, please be calm. This is natural, I assure you." An elderly handmaid uttered quietly in a futile attempt to ease the mother's nerves.

The woman on the bed, her body tensed and face sweaty almost shouted back, petulantly and filled with malice, "You know there's nothing natural about this! Ah!" She curled in on herself as another wave of pain wracked her body.

"She's right you know, despite how strange this is you must be as calm as you can manage. Being agitated will only make this less pleasant." The girl's father, somehow as calm as a leisurely stream, offered his hand, as the absence of the soon-to-be-born's nonexistent father left her with no one else to do so.

His daughter's saffron eyes regarded him with distaste, a retort on the tip of her tongue before she flinched as the process progressed.

The birthing took some time yet, and the staff of the manor were near exhaustion as first cries were heard, loud and clear through the building. A smile was spread as the joyous sound of new life spread almost concurrent with the first sounding of thunder overhead. Those smiles were utterly extinguished when a scream and a cry, not from the child but from a man, reverberated through them all.

Those nearby the room crowded outside the door, waiting for the presumably terrible news. It opened and the lord of the house walked out with a stony visage, but none missed the tears on his face. As they turned back to the room, they saw the elderly handmaid within a softly crying bundle in her arms, and a deathly still young woman lying on the bed. The woman walked out with the newborn and addressed the servants there. "The child is healthy, and she named him Equinox before she… " She then turned her head and walked down the hall. The servants entered the room and as they all suspected, the lord's daughter had passed with a sad smile on her face.

* * *

The funeral was planned almost hastily after the lord came out of his study two full days later, bearing letters for his distant family and all the lords he knew across Cyrodiil. After harshly addressing the servants, bidding them to prepare for the event, he made quickly to the chambers in which he knew had been prepared for the newborn. He gritted his teeth together at the thought of the child. He could not accept that this child born of what had to be some kind of curse had killed his legacy, his beloved daughter. His thick black brows furrowed in anger, and then in despair. He could not truly blame an innocent child for the death of its mother, no matter how unnatural its conception.

As he reached for the door, the elderly maid opened it and stumbled back at the sight of him and his obviously displeased countenance. "Milord, I apologize, I did not know you were coming." She seemed unsure of what to do, as he was obviously troubled because of his daughter's death and she could not possibly leave the child to be his outlet.

"I did not know I needed permission or an announcement to see my own grandchild, in my own house." He snapped, positively furious at absolutely nothing and the unlucky woman who stood in the way of this directionless frustration.

The old woman cowered and stepped to the side, self-preservation kicking in almost immediately. "My most sincere apologies lord Niben, I didn't mean to give that impression, please forgive me."

"Move."

"Yes, milord." The maid stepped out of his way and exited quickly once he had passed, practically scurrying in her haste to avoid his wrath.

As he approached the child's crib, Lord Ferren noticed something extremely odd, the very definition of out of place. He quickly shifted aside the infant's blankets and reached for his neck.

There, upon the newborn's untouched skin, was a necklace with a stylized nightingale hanging at the end of it. He thought back as far as he could into his memory and realized suddenly that his daughter had been wearing the very same necklace two days ago. He also realized that he had never given such a piece to her, and she rarely if ever received gifts from anyone but him. She was a slight bit too young for suitors looking to impress a noblewoman, and his family never saw much worth in baubles like these.

He left the room in a hurry and found the maid, "Syralla, where did the necklace come from?"

She gave him a cautious yet curious look, "Necklace, milord? What necklace?"

"Do not toy with me, the necklace that currently lies around the grandson's neck, a nightingale hand from it."

"Why that was Lady Loren's necklace! She'd never leave her room without it. I don't know how it ended up with her son but perhaps one of the other servants felt particularly sentimental and left it with him." She seemed amused at the thought of one of the younger girls doing something so emotional.

"I know that, what I meant was where did she get it? I never gave it to her and she rarely leaves the grounds, she has no suitors and you know that my family cares not for jewelry of all things." He seemed even more annoyed with the fact that the old woman thought he was so oblivious as to not know that his daughter always wore the piece, yet he could not remember when she started wearing it.

The maid seemed thoughtful for a moment then turned back to him with a shrug, "I've no idea, I can't even seem to remember when she started wearing it. I think my age is catching up with me."

The lord scowled at her before turning and walking away in the direction of his study.

* * *

A day later, Lord Ferren stared disbelievingly down at his desk, or rather, the book thereon. He had searched through volumes of symbols and such and had finally found an obscure reference to nightingales, though the connection was not one he wanted to make.

The nightingale is attached to luck, thievery and shadow. It is a fickle creature and a mischievous one. However, it is not these things Lord Ferren is worried about. The nightingale is the sacred symbol of Nocturnal, Daedric Prince of mystery and shadow. In fact, the symbol of the nightingale described and depicted in the book he was currently appraising with a poisonous look was the exact same as the one now sitting around his precious grandson's little neck.

He now realized that his daughter was up to and into things she shouldn't have been. A dalliance with a servant boy he could have understood, a bit of thievery even, he knew she often felt as though the manor was a gilded cage but this was far too much. His family had served as the truest faithful to the divines in all of Tamriel, and many of his extended family were priests and priestesses. For his daughter to worship a Daedra of all things was a deep cut to his pride and a betrayal to all he had ever taught her. He gave the book another glance and his eyes widened.

Nocturnal's summoning day is the third of Heartfire.

Today was the sixth, three days after Equinox was born.

Thunder crashed outside and luckily it masked the deluge of curses that spewed from his lips well enough that the servants could not hear them.

* * *

A week passes and the funeral was to begin a few short hours. Lord Ferren was currently occupied greeting his cousin who had brought with him a retinue of retainers and even another member of the Elder Council.

"Cousin! How wonderful to see you, if only it were a happier occasion. I truly feel sorrow at dear Loren's passing. She was a beautiful and intelligent young girl and had quite a bright future ahead of her I'm sure." Lord Ferren's cousin, one Lord Therin Umbranox, a member of the prestigious Elder Council and a rather eccentric man. His dark hair and saffron eyes sat in deep contrast with his pale skin, and his grin was ever present, even at funerals apparently. "She died in childbirth, yes? You said so in your letter. I had no idea she had been married so soon! I'm sure her husband is devastated."

"She was not married, Therin." Lord Ferren said tiredly. "The birth was something unusual, there was no father. I had a mage come to confirm her purity and she had no clue as to where the pregnancy originated."

Lord Umbranox gave him an odd look and a raised brow, "No father you say, that is odd indeed. Was this the product of some curse perhaps?"

"No, the mage detected no magical taint either, there was no signs of anything that would have led to such a thing." Lord Ferren sighed tiredly and turned to where the old maid was seated with young Equinox in her lap. "The child is perfectly healthy as well, which rules out a malicious curse almost offhandedly. There is no record of any healthy children born of such a curse."

"Hmm, truly strange that. Would you mind if I had a guild mage come and examine him? To ensure his health and perhaps ascertain the source of the malady that killed Loren?"Therin turned to his cousin, "If it can be identified perhaps we can get some measure of closure in this tragedy."

Lord Ferren looked nervous for a moment, and pondered the likely consequences. If the mages detected any daedric taint on his daughter's child her reputation would likely plummet irreparably, as would the rest of the family's. Even more worrisome is the chance that they may take the child for study or perhaps kill him outright if such a thing were discovered. "No, I would rather let her rest peacefully and not scare what remains of her, namely my infant grandson who needs everything but incursive mages poking and prodding at him."

"But we may be able to-"

"No, and that's final. I'll hear no more talk of this. Please respect my daughter and her son at her funeral for Arkay's sake." Lord Ferren demanded. He turned, a glare focused at his cousin, "The last thing I want is to traumatize a newborn with the dealings of magic."

Lord Umbranox looked reproachful, sad and annoyed all at the same time. "Of course cousin, I meant no disrespect for dear Loren, and especially not for her son." His face brightened slightly, "Speaking of the boy, might I go see our new addition to the family?"

Lord Ferren, utterly amused and annoyed with the sudden change at the same time, spoke softly, "Of course, he is with Loren's handmaid over there." He watched almost exasperated as one of the most powerful men in the empire practically skipped over to the old woman like a child.

"Sometimes I can't fathom how the Council still runs with him on it."

* * *

After the funeral ended and the body was buried, Lord Ferren and his servants retired to the manor for the night and he personal laid Equinox down for bed. "You were born not a fortnight ago and you're already more trouble than your mother was." Lord Ferren smiled softly at the peacefully sleeping infant before exiting the room quietly and giving a nod to the old maid. He then went off to his quarters to sleep.

In little Equinox's room however, the necklace, which no one was willing to take from the boy, started glowing ominously, and a soft coo echoed out from Oblivion.

"Yes, my champion. Sleep well, for you will have much to do before long."


End file.
